


Getting Sick

by loveavillain (copper28)



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26213704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copper28/pseuds/loveavillain
Summary: Villanelle didn't get sick. Maybe it's in her genetics, her blood surging round her body and furiously destroying any hint of an illness. Maybe she's too fast, always one step ahead of the germs. Or, it's because she spends a vast amount of time cleaning up blood so she's constantly disinfected.The answer actually isn't any of those things, because Villanelle did get sick, a normal amount really. The difference was she refused to show it.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 19
Kudos: 149





	Getting Sick

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Just a little thing I wrote a while ago and I was going to do a second part but that's taking me 1000 years to write and this stands alone anyway so thought I'd just post this for now! Hope you enjoy :)

Villanelle didn't get sick. Maybe it's in her genetics, her blood surging round her body and furiously destroying any hint of an illness. Maybe she's too fast, always one step ahead of the germs. Or, it's because she spends a vast amount of time cleaning up blood so she's constantly disinfected.

The answer actually isn't any of those things, because Villanelle did get sick, a normal amount really. The difference was she refused to show it.

First came the orphanage. Survival of the fittest, the weak were weeded out fast and Villanelle could only imagine life at the top of the food chain. Sickness was hidden, you had to be stronger than all the other kids, and so that’s what she did. 

Then came Anna, and they didn’t have the time for illness. 

Prison… the less said about that the better.

Truly it came down to Dasha and Konstantin. Through the Twelve Villanelle was taught behaviours, nurtured with methods to keep her working, even when her head felt like it was going to explode.

With Dasha at her back, Villanelle had no time to even think about weakness. The slightest sniffle was knocked out of her, a cough was only a ticket to scathing Russian words, and being physically sick? That would only earn you a gruelling circuit of training on top of the usual.

There was no sympathy. No empathy. It was beaten out of the kids before they even knew what the words meant. Weakness was not to be shown, you suffered in silence, you trample it down until the only thing you feel is the thrill of a kill.

It was like that for years.

As she grew more independent, was let loose on jobs and given freedom in between, Villanelle forgot how most people seemed to deal with illness. That brief part of her childhood where her father would soothe her cries and calm her was pushed into the furthest corner of her soul.

Konstantin was different to Dasha, but it still boiled down to if she could do the job or not.

Coughing would bring a verbal spar, Konstantin goading her into being defensive and ferociously desperate to prove herself. She'd get the job done, and then he would leave her a jar of honey and cough syrup when she returned. At the time, it felt like he cared about her. Villanelle had scoffed at that, but secretly yearned for it to be true.

If she ever had a migraine, or a fever that made her feel weak, Konstantin would withdraw, keep her off jobs for a minimum of two weeks. At the time, longer than a few days without a job would have Villanelle crawling the walls. It drove her mad having nothing to do, being locked down into one place with no kill in sight. It had happened twice, and then Villanelle suffered through without thought to her own welfare.

In all her years, Villanelle didn't know what it would be like to have someone care for you when you were sick.

Of course the person to show her would be Eve.

///

Standing outside the rundown mechanic garage, Villanelle struggled not to sway on her feet. She'd been feeling worse progressively for the past week, but as usual she'd ignored her symptoms, plowing on through like nothing was the matter. She had felt nauseous, had increasingly severe headaches, blocked sinuses, it was an all round bad time. 

Eve had noticed, of course. She'd frequently asked if she was feeling alright, and every time Villanelle had said she was fine. It was a difficult habit to break, and the idea of telling Eve she didn't feel well just hadn't even occurred to her. Illness was forbidden. Villanelle didn't get sick.

"- after that we can discuss the next steps." Carolyn said, stood off to the left where her car was being MOT'd. She commanded the attention of the space, and usually Villanelle would compete with that, but she was just way too tired.

Eve beside her nodded, crossing her arms. "Okay. We can do that."

She looked towards Villanelle expectantly, and frowned when she realised Villanelle wasn't paying attention.

Her skin felt like it was on fire but she was freezing. She shivered, glazed eyes unfocused and blind to Eve's gaze.

"Were you even listening to any of that?" Eve growled, annoyance clear in her tone.

Villanelle was about to respond, when she sneezed. Loudly.

"Ugh, no. I was, I was. We wait for Konstantin to give the all clear with Irina and then we regroup for the next stage. Good plan. Can we go now?" Villanelle said, trying to keep the whine out of her voice. "I'm cold."

Carolyn raises an eyebrow, and Eve shakes her head in exasperation. "I told you it wasn't warm enough for just a shirt."

Eve’s attention shifts back to Carolyn, but she also moves to link her arm with Villanelle. Her reaction is instant, leaning into the supporting weight like a crutch. Trying to be subtle about it of course.

"We'll wait for your call." Eve said, pushing into Villanelle to get her to start walking away. Their latest safe-house was literally two minutes down the road.

Carolyn doesn't deem that worthy of a response, instead starting up a new conversation about her car in German to the mechanic.

They start walking, and Villanelle realises just how exhausted she feels. Every step is like she's dragging weights across sand, and her head feels too heavy for her neck. She can't hold herself up straight, so she tilts her head upwards and hopes it might clear some of the snot that's building up too. She's pretty sure she can only breathe out of one nostril.

Eve remains quiet as they walk, carefully using their linked arms to guide Villanelle along, because she was definitely not looking where she was going.

They reach the shop beneath their apartment, and Eve stops them before she goes to unlock the door.

"I've just got to get a few things, do you want the keys and I'll be with you in a minute?" Eve asks.

The urge to refuse is on the tip of her tongue. They had an unwritten rule not to be separated, it left them as easier targets, but Villanelle absolutely does not have the energy to wander around the shop after Eve and take ten minutes debating which flavour seasoning to get only to buy the same one they've been using for months.

But she can't leave Eve with no protection, even if Villanelle wasn't in the best shape right now she could still fight off whatever came at her girl.

"I'll just wait here."

Eve looked like she might argue for a moment, and then she disappeared into the shop.

Villanelle sighs, sagging backwards to lean against the door, her head thudding against the rotting wood. It sends blind pain shooting behind her eyes, and she fights back a hiss.

She can't remember the last time she felt this shit. Everything ached, and the throbbing of her skull made it hard to even think properly, let alone keeping her trembling body upright. When Eve came back, she would just claim tiredness. Fall asleep on the sofa with them watching some dreadful soap Eve liked. It would be fine in the morning. She wasn't that sick.

"Hey, V?"

The sound of Eve's voice jerked Villanelle from her uncomfortable resting spot, and she lets out a pathetic sounding whimper as her quick movement draws out a stab of pain. The wave of nausea was also unpleasant, but she managed to keep it controlled.

"Yup. Yeah." Villanelle cleared her throat and straightened up, ignoring the protest in her spine. "Get what you need?"

Eve gives her a long look that Villanelle can't decipher, and then hooks her plastic bag on her arm to take over opening their door. "Uh huh. Come on."

They make their way up the stairs to the flat, slower than usual. Villanelle is hyper aware that Eve has one hand carefully braced against the small of her back, and she's keeping her one step ahead at all times.

"Wh-" Villanelle is about to ask why she's doing that, when she suddenly feels the blood drain from her features.

Perhaps she didn’t have control of that nausea.

Eve is beside her in seconds, hauling her up the last few steps and barrelling into their apartment. She throws the bag in the general direction of the kitchen and launches their keys with it. Eve pulls her through the room, and bundles them both into the bathroom, getting the seat of the toilet up just in time for Villanelle's first retch.

"You're such a tit." Eve says, though there's affection clinging to her words instead of scorn.

Villanelle isn't used to that.

She spat into the toilet, gripping the edge of the bowl and trying to push herself up.

"I'm fine, it's-" Her head is back into the toilet, and the vile taste of vomit coats her tongue again.

Eve shushes her, kneeling beside her as she throws up. There's one hand on her back, flat palmed and soothingly running up along her aching spine. Her hair is being pushed out of the way tucked to the side so where her head is angled it won't get caught in splashes of sick. Eve murmurs soft noises, coaxing Villanelle through another heave.

It makes her want to cry.

She doesn't realise she is until Eve's touch shifts from her hair, wiping her cheek instead.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Eve asks.

Villanelle sniffs, cautiously coming unstuck from the toilet. She doesn't have anything left to bring up.

"I don't.. I mean I've never..." She can feel her lip trembling, and Eve's thumb has increased in pace across her cheek as more tears fell. "I've never had anyone to look after me."

Eve shifts towards her, apparently immune to the scent of sickness and feel of clammy skin, because she pulls Villanelle into a hug, her hand rubbing soothingly at her back again.

"You do now, baby." Eve whispers, and Villanelle couldn't stop herself burying into Eve's comfort even if she'd wanted to.

Once her breathing slows to a raspy controlled rhythm, Eve peels herself away.

"Alright come on, you need to be in bed."

"At least buy me a drink first." Villanelle shoots back, but even to her own ears she sounds exhausted. Eve only gives her a patient look in return.

They ease themselves up off the floor, Villanelle leaning on Eve as they make their way to the bedroom at a much slower pace than their arrival into the bathroom.

Eve makes Villanelle sit on the edge of the bed, and catches her hand as she tries to flop backwards.

Villanelle whines, pouting in protest at still being sat up and letting herself go limp, a dead weight in Eve’s hands.

Eve grunts with the sudden resistance, and then just pulls harder, catching Villanelle before she fell face first off the bed. She props her up, dropping a brief kiss to her cheek.

"You'll be uncomfortable. Pyjamas." Eve says, kneeling between Villanelle's legs to start unlacing her boots.

Villanelle doesn't even have the energy to make a lewd comment, but she does reach out when Eve was finished, tracing her thumb under Eve's jaw.

"I would kiss you but I taste like sick." Villanelle says, instead ghosting her thumb over Eve's lips.

Eve catches her hand, pressing a gentle kiss to her palm instead.

She's careful as she undresses Villanelle. It's not sexy, but it is intimate on another level and by the time Villanelle has been laid back and tucked under the covers she feels like bursting into tears all over again.

"Be right back." Eve says, trying to untangle her hand where Villanelle was holding it.

She makes a pathetic whimper of protest, fighting Eve leaving.

Eve breaks her grip easily, and she reaches to tuck Villanelle's hair behind one ear, leaning to press a kiss to her forehead.

"Two seconds. You can still see me out the door." Eve promises.

Villanelle pouts. "One. Two. Eveeeee."

But her whining didn't get her to come back, only got her an adorable affectionate smile.

She sees Eve rescuing the bag she had thrown earlier in their haste to get to the bathroom, and she begins rummaging around in the kitchen.

The fight to keep her eyes open was a hard one. Now she was finally horizontal - comfortably settled into the warmth of the bed despite her shivering. She wasn't too hot, Eve had dressed her in one of her own too big t-shirts, some band from the 80's she'd seen on tour and a pair of Villanelle's boxer shorts. If it wasn't for the taste of sick on her tongue Villanelle definitely would have slept until next month.

"Hey." There's a weight dipping the mattress beside her, and Villanelle opens her eyes slowly.

Eve is dressed in her own pyjamas, and has scooted over onto Villanelle's side of the bed with a glass in hand. There's something fizzing at the bottom of it, and it's tinged a little orange.

"Water and some dissolving vitamins. Can you drink some for me?" Eve asked her, offering the glass.

Villanelle grunts, reluctantly peeling herself away from the pillow to prop herself up on one elbow, swaying into Eve's space as she grabs for the drink.

Eve doesn't give it up. Instead she let's Villanelle grasp it and guide it to her mouth, but Eve stays there, supporting her hand and making sure she doesn’t drain the glass.

"Good girl." Eve murmured when Villanelle handed the glass back to her.

The words send a shiver up her spine, but before she can latch herself against Eve's side she's presented with the glass again.

"Give it five minutes and if you don't bring it back up you can take these with the rest of it." Eve tells her, holding up a packet of lemsip tablets.

Villanelle just groans, letting her body fall limp against Eve. "But I wanna sleep now."

"Mhm. Sick people take medication before they sleep, or they might not wake up." Eve says casually. Any other time Villanelle might have made a joke about murder in a hospital, but it felt like far too much effort, and she was enjoying receiving this much affection despite feeling like shit.

She whines instead of responding, pushing herself up against Eve's side until one eye is screwed shut where she's smushed her face against her arm. "Hurts."

Eve's expression softens, and the glass and drugs are placed on the bedside table. "Where?"

Villanelle shifts, nudging her way under Eve's arm until she's got her head resting on her chest, legs tangled beneath the sheets.

"Feels like my eyes are going to explode like little grapes." She muses, noting that even blinking was beginning to hurt. "And my back aches."

Instantly there's a warm hand pressed against the clammy skin of her back, tracing patterns alone the base of her spine. It takes Villanelle's attention away from the dull throb, and she arches into the touch. The content sigh that forces its way through her one unblocked nostril comes once Eve has started stroking through her hair.

"Is that better?" Eve asks, her voice low.

Villanelle hums as her eyes glue themselves shut, content to lie like this for the rest of time.

“You should take the drugs.” Eve informs the room, and Villanelle ignores the suggestion entirely. Eve made her feel better, taking drugs would involve movement that she wasn’t willing to entertain. 

It’s quiet for a moment, just the rattling sound of Villanelle wheezing through a blocked nose paired with the odd content sigh. 

"You'd better not do this again, V." Eve says, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Next time you tell me when you're not feeling well before we get this far."

"I don't get sick." Villanelle insisted slowly, her words thick and raspy.

Eve inhales loudly, which Villanelle had learned meant "stop being a dick".

Her fingers don't falter in the rhythm she had constructed, and Villanelle wants nothing more than to feel the sensation of Eve stroking her hair forever.

If this is what getting sick looked like with normal people, with someone you loved. Well.

Maybe Villanelle did get sick.


End file.
